


Whispers of the Past

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: De-Aged, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-11
Updated: 2007-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's that date again, and Dinah is the one to be there. Only, a little magic intruded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers of the Past

Black Canary knew the significance of the date. No child of Gotham could avoid knowing it. She even, vaguely, could remember the sales over the years to Alfred or Bruce, of long-stemmed roses at her mother's shop.

Bruce had told her the first time they ever hugged had been in her mother's shop. Dinah, of course, had been the one to initiate it. It had been the very first anniversary of the deaths.

She had merely smiled sadly at him and shook her head, then continued 'welcoming' him back from his trip.

Still, when everyone who would normally be in and around Gotham came up on business that week, Dinah cringed. No way in the world was she going to let the man that had been in her life that long face it without someone guarding over him.

She took up vigil near the alley, saw him go in. She waited, not wanting to intrude on him, or even let him know she was there. Still when thirty minutes had passed, she started to get nervous. At the forty-five minute mark, she dropped and strode into the alley, moving with precision but not stealth.

There, next to the roses, a scared young boy was kneeling, face streaked by tears. He heard her, and shot to his feet, the fear pulling at her soul.

"Black Canary?"

Something in that voice, the sheer weight of tragic loss hanging on him even as he tried to bring himself together, made her really look at him.

"Bruce?"

"You know me?" Awe edged in around the pain, the attempt to be 'grown-up'. She closed her eyes a brief moment, thankful for once to the fates that she was the spitting image of her momma.

"Yes. Come here, Bruce, and let me get you home." She held her hand out to him, and he slowly made his way to her. Despite herself, she could not help but lace an arm around his shoulders, giving comfort she could not feel herself.


End file.
